Choices of Destiny
by Nestrik
Summary: True love takes time, but will it be too late? Draco Malfoy will have to choose between his destiny . . . and his heart.
1. The Losses of Hogwarts

Tried to give you warning But everyone ignores me Told you everything loud and clear But nobody's listening  
  
-Linkin Park  
Nobody's Listening  
  
* * * * *  
  
Born Again  
  
Draco Malfoy looked into the mirror in the bathroom that adjoined his bedroom. His eyes were puffy, and his usually slicked back hair was mussed from the night of tossing and turning that now thankfully lay behind him. Draco didn't know why he had trouble sleeping. He gripped the white porcelain of the sink and stared straight into his own eyes.  
  
"You were just nervous," Draco firmly told himself. "That was it. You were not thinking about anything. Or anyone. You were-!"  
  
"That's no surprise," the mirror interrupted in a nasty voice.  
  
Draco clenched his fist so hard that his knuckles turned white, then he sighed and began his morning ritual of washing his face, combing his hair back into its usual severe style and getting dressed.  
  
Before his father had been captured that fateful night two years before, Lucius Malfoy had looked his son right in the eye and had said, "Get a grip, Draco. Don't let anything faze you if something happens. To either of us." Draco had every intention of living up to his father's wishes. He was not one to disappoint.  
  
He dressed in a crisp white shirt and the ritualistic sweater vest of Hogwarts. Draco would put on his robes once he entered Platform 9 ¾. The Head Boy badge glimmered on the black satin. He checked his trunk, making sure he had socks, underwear, shirts, robes, slacks, spring and winter cloaks as well as his Invisibility Cloak. His broomstick, freshly polished, went in a separate case along with the tools used for making the Whipwind 50 look as if it was brand new. Draco put his wand into the pack pocket of his khakis and surveyed his room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.  
  
On an impulse, Draco went to his bookshelf and removed Great Magicians Through the Centuries, an old volume, from his shelf. He knew someone who might have use for it. Draco headed down for breakfast after placing the hefty volume on top of the clothes in his trunk.  
  
His mother sat alone at the table, steam clouding her pale face from the plate of eggs that the house elf had placed before her. Draco approached and saw that a place had also been laid out for him.  
  
"Morning, Mum," Draco said, and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled faintly and placed two red fingernails on the tines of her fork. Draco took note of this as he began to eat his own meal.  
  
It took five minutes for Narcissa Malfoy to pick up her fork, and twenty for her to eat her eggs. By the time she was finished Draco was standing in the doorway, his trunks heaped about his feet, observing his mother through lidded eyes. She had been acting strange ever since Voldemort had fully risen to power. Draco had never meditated for long on the fact, however, and impatience was growing in him. He wanted to leave for the train station. He wanted to see his friends. He wanted to see-  
  
No. Draco had spent all night thinking about her and he refused to do so now in the light of day in front of people that he knew.  
  
"Mum," he said, sounding slightly strangled but more impatient. Narcissa looked up at her son and seemingly snapped out of her trance.  
  
"Oh! Draco, I should have told you, there's a Ministry car waiting for you in the driveway. security and all."  
  
Security against what? Draco wanted to ask, but he knew too well that she would either say "Lord Voldemort, of course," or "Your father would have wanted it." So he picked up his broomstick and walked out the door, followed by two house elves groaning under the weight of his luggage.  
  
Draco Malfoy rode in the green Ministry car in silence, and even if there were someone to talk too he would not have spoken. He slid through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾, slipped his black robe with the Head Boy badge over his shoulders, and headed dutifully towards the train.  
  
He was Draco Malfoy, and he was going to leave everything that even hinted of that summer behind.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Hermione Granger had been up since four, and she paced restlessly around the Weasley's living room as she waited for Harry and Ron to rise. The Weasley parents were in the kitchen, Molly cooking breakfast and Arthur preparing to leave for work, having already eaten.  
  
Hermione had in her hand a newspaper. Every few minutes she would glance down at the large, moving picture on the cover and stifle yet another sob. She didn't need anyone to know that she was crying- Mr. and Mrs. Weasley already had enough on their hands with the Order of the Phoenix and seven children (including one Percy, who had yet to contact his parents even though the stream of Muggle and Mudblood killings had increased in number every day for the past two years). They didn't need one broken down guest to ruin their already hectic morning.  
  
The stairs above her creaked ominously, but Hermione knew by spending most of the last six summers at the Weasley home that the entire structure was not going to cave down on her, there were just two exhausted people coming down the stairs. As one dark head and one red head passed through the doorway to the living room, Hermione whispered, "Ron! Harry! In here!"  
  
"Hermione?" Ron asked, rubbing his eyes. Harry went over to the distraught girl and wrapped her in his arms. "It's alright," he whispered into her hair, trying to soothe her.  
  
"No, Harry, it's not." Hermione shook her head vigorously, leaving Harry with a mouthful of fluffy hair. "It's not. There's been another attack."  
  
Hermione gently pushed herself away from Harry and managed to get her arm into the space between their faces. Harry was confronted with a moving picture of a burning house. The Dark Mark glistened evilly above it. Harry could almost hear the screams coming from the silent newspaper.  
  
"Harry, move your head so I can see, you twit," Ron said as he stuck his head in between Harry's arms and Hermione's body. "Blimey," he said, after he had gazed at the picture for a few moments.  
  
"It's the Flinch-Fletchley's house," Hermione said through her tears. "Justin's dead."  
  
Harry's grip tightened on Hermione. Ron responded with "Blimey."  
  
Molly Weasley chose that moment to tell the three friends that breakfast was ready. She strode cheerfully into the room, a spatula in one hand and her wand in the other, and said "Breakfast!"  
  
Her steps were checked, however, when she saw the three friends, two locked in embrace and her son gazing in quiet horror at the newspaper wedged between Harry and Hermione. Molly's eyes filled with compassion, for Arthur had already told her the story. Justin's father had been the friend of many a Ministry worker, and the news of the attack spread fast.  
  
She gathered Ron into her arms and, surprisingly, the boy did not fight back.  
  
As Hermione lay enfolded in Harry's arms, she remembered the day before.  
  
They had been playing Quidditch in the grove, at just about the time the attack must have been occurring. It was broad daylight. Hermione had work to do, subjects to brush up on (the N.E.W.T. tests were coming up!) and to her surprise, Harry had put down his broom and had sat on the grass beside her. For a while Hermione had studied and Harry had watched the game in silence (Ron's Keeping abilities had greatly improved). After a while, though, Harry turned his head and saw that Hermione was studying Potions.  
  
"Is there a love potion in there?" Harry asked in a joking tone.  
  
Hermione smiled and raised her head to retort, but she found that while his tone was joking his eyes were serious in the shy way that Harry had about him. They had looked at each other for a moment, and had leaned closer, and with a single breath of fall breeze Hermione had received her second kiss, this one much surpassing the first.  
  
Breathless, they had pulled apart, and Hermione had frantically begun flipping pages around in the textbook and Harry had begun to loudly cheer for Ron's team. Later that night, they had decided to be together. Harry had congratulated her on being made Head Girl, and Hermione laughingly told Harry about her first kiss, received by a nervous and somewhat sweaty Neville in her sixth year, and how she had to turn down his advances because Hermione had no romantic feelings towards him at all. They were still good friends, though, and thankfully the nervous walls between them had disappeared.  
  
Now, wrapped in Harry's embrace and in her own sorrow of losing a classmate, Hermione knew that her seventh year at Hogwarts would both horrible, and excellent, all at the same time.  
  
Finally, after most of the tears and hugs had subsided, Molly said sharply, "Heavens! Look at the time. You'd best eat or you'll still be eating when I drive you to the station."  
  
Hermione nodded as she pulled away from Harry and wiped her eyes. Harry's arm still lay across her shoulders, and she suddenly envisioned a bird flying around a cage. Wildly, she shook her head, as if to clear it of the thought. Harry didn't comment on the waves of hair that slapped his face for the second time that very morning.  
  
The three best friends ate in silence, and when Mrs. Weasley said that it was time to go, they were all ready. Hermione, Ron and Harry were all looking forwards to the fact that Hogwarts had always been a save haven for them all, where nothing could physically reach them. But the idea of Hogwarts was simply an illusion, for in the very first year at the school Voldemort had infiltrated the staff, and in the second Tom Riddle was very nearly set loose, and in the fourth one of the most feared Death Eaters to ever enter the circle posed as a teacher and a well-known retired Auror.  
  
The car ride was also made in silence. Ron shuffled and reshuffled his deck of Exploding Snap cards, and when he was bored with that he took out his wizard chess pieces and stared at them intently, and when he deemed that finished he took out his copy of Flying With The Canons and chucked it back into his back after a mere seven minutes of skimming the pictures. Hermione had once again pulled out her Potions textbook, and her eyes skimmed back and forth across the pages, pulling in information as if the knowledge could serve as an anchor in the world that was so quickly falling apart around her. Harry did not comment on love potions as she read. He was staring out the window, thinking of all the Death Eaters that were running loose in the world, aiding Voldemort in his evil causes. His scar twitched on his forehead, but Harry did not feel it, let alone reach up to touch it.  
  
The familiar quells of excitement began to return to the three students, however, as Mrs. Weasley pulled the car up to King's Cross Station.  
  
Dumbledore will know what to do, Harry thought to himself, and allowed a small smile to steal across his lips. Ron's mood had also improved at the thought of going back to the castle. Hermione was still buried in her book, but Ron caught her stealing glances up at the stone structure, her eyes hiding excitement within them.  
  
Ron resolved not to think about anything bad until the feast that night, where Dumbledore would surely bring up the most recent attacks against Muggles and Muggle-born wizards. He had a few Knuts in his pocket and the absent minded breakfast of bacon and pancakes seemed a century ago. The thought of feasting on Chocolate Frogs and Pumpkin Patties again seemed a welcome thought.  
  
Harry was mulling over the information in his mind. It was his seventh year at Hogwarts, and he wasn't a prefect, so he had no duties to complete besides Quidditch practice and, of course, homework. But the unspoken loomed before Harry in his mind and in his memory. He had nightmares about what was to come, about what the Prophecy spoke of, seemingly every week, or at least twice a month. But, like Ron, Harry had pushed this to the back burner of his mind, but there it still loomed, a terrifying prospect of death.  
  
Harry was old enough now, though. He allowed the words of the Prophecy to seep back into his consciousness. The duel. Harry would have to die. Or kill Voldemort.  
  
I'll need Hermione's help this year, in school and in curses, Harry thought, proudly looking at his girlfriend, whose eyes were slightly glazed. He knew that she was reviewing the information she had just absorbed from the textbook. Sometimes Hermione's study habits were slightly disturbing, but most of the time Harry was thankful for them.  
  
They leaned against the barrier, talking as they slipped through into the magical world. The scarlet Hogwarts Express was puffing smoke merrily. Nearby stood a crowd of first years holding the hands of their parents. Second years were still eyeing the platform with familiar distrust, while the third years and up were walking around, putting their luggage into the carriages, and daring their friends to stand on the railroad tracks or to touch the side of the train (all before it began to move, of course). Harry moved forwards, the familiar euphoria sweeping over his body, when he saw a platinum blonde head bobbing towards the train, followed by two darker ones.  
  
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. At least this would be the last year Harry would have to deal with them. Assuming, of course, that all three decided to abandon their Death Eater roots and become Aurors, like Harry was planning to do. There was the chance of meeting Malfoy if either one of them decided that Quidditch was an ideal career option, however. Harry yet again pushed the thought out of his mind as he began to stride towards the train.  
  
Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy was telling Crabbe and Goyle about Azkaban. The two imbeciles had inquired numerous times as to where Draco's father was and to what Azkaban is.  
  
"It's a wizard prison," Draco started wearily for the fourth time, "guarded by dementors, who-!"  
  
"What're dementors?" Crabbe asked. Draco opened his mouth to respond, but as he began to speak another voice spoke from behind him.  
  
"Dementors are evil, robed things that can suck the soul out of you, through your mouth. They can also make you relive the most terrible moments in your life."  
  
The voice was feminine, and Draco recognized it. His foot disobeyed his emotions and turned on its heel, so that Draco was face to face with her.  
  
The sleepless night came back to him, his tossing and turning and his endless thoughts and fantasies rushing back at him like a torrent of water. His mind balanced itself, and the Malfoy in him forced his eyes into a glare as he reminded himself of whom he was supposed to be.  
  
Surprisingly, the two brown eyes looking up into his own glared back. "Well, Malfoy, I thought you would have told them more about the place where they were keeping your father."  
  
"Shut up, Granger. You don't know anything about Azkaban," Draco sneered as he turned back to the train. Then he felt a hand grab at the backs of his robes, and the hand twisted Draco's body cruelly around to face a pair of startlingly green eyes.  
  
"Leave her alone, Malfoy!" Potter yelled. Hermione looked up at him, then at Ron, then at Malfoy.  
  
"Hello, Potter. You've even brought the Mudblood and the Weasel." Malfoy spat out the words as if they were venom on his tongue. Malfoy truly disliked Potter and had no trouble hiding it, like he did with his emotions for the Mudblood. Potter was the reason Lucius Malfoy was in prison. Even though the truth might be otherwise, Malfoy blamed Potter truly and deeply. Weasley was just Potter's sidekick.  
  
"Famous Potter," Draco said slowly and carefully. "Always aiding others. How many people have you saved over the holiday, Potter? How many lives? How many autographs did you give out, how many pictures did you have taken of you?"  
  
Potter's green eyes glared back into his own blue ones. The grip on the back of Draco's robes tightened. He wondered where Crabbe and Goyle were.  
  
"None, Malfoy, but I've seen pictures. What have you, your crowd, your group, been doing over the summer? Killing for sport? How many orders have YOU taken, Malfoy?"  
  
"I'm not one of them," Draco said quietly. However low his tone was, his words still carried power.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"I'm not one of them, Potter, and you damn well know it. There's no mark on my arm, there's no blood on my hands. Get your famous little fingers off me, Potter, before I hex you so badly that," Draco's eyes flicked towards Hermione, "even she won't recognize you. How'd it feel to be kissing a mangled man, Granger?"  
  
Harry shoved Draco away from himself in disgust. The git claimed he wasn't a Death Eater. Harry wished that he could just look at Malfoy's arm and see.  
  
Draco sneered once again and turned back towards the train. A small circle had cleared out of the way as students and parents alike had watched the war of words. Draco ignored them and boarded the train.  
  
He found Crabbe and Goyle eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and smearing pasties all over their faces. He strongly resisted the urge to hex them and their mess out of the way, and simply stood, leaning against the closed door, until one of the idiots recognized him.  
  
It was only when a cockroach flavored jellybean was accidentally flicked towards the door that Goyle noticed him. He immediately stood up, spilling an enormous number of Chocolate Frogs that had been hiding in his lap onto the floor. The oaf immediately stood up. "Boss," he said gruffly, and Draco almost expected him to salute.  
  
"Damn, filthy Mudbloods," Draco said, his voice even more impassioned than it had been before now that he was among Slytherins- however stupid they were. Crabbe and Goyle nodded vigorously in reaction to his insult.  
  
It was in that moment that Draco Malfoy felt a pang of loneliness. They had been striking his guy whenever he saw the vacant look in his mother's eyes, or the ignorant expressions on the faces of his bodyguard, or the famous Harry Potter surrounded by friends and admirers, with Ronald Weasley at his side and Hermione Granger on his arm.  
  
It was painfully evident to Draco that the two were together. For how long, he could not guess. There was a light in Potter's eyes when he had defended Granger today on the platform. It was a little like the light in Pansy Parkinson's eyes whenever she laid sight on Draco, except brighter and less obsessive.  
  
Draco sighed as the object of his current thoughts knocked on the door against which he was leaning. Through his third year, he had loved Pansy. Through his sixth year he had tolerated her, and the sharp, unceasing rat-ta-tat-a-tat-a of Pansy's knock was already grating on Draco's fringed nerves.  
  
Leaving the door closed for just a moment more, Draco looked Crabbe and Goyle straight in the eye before turning around and opening the door.  
  
A shot of pink and green whizzed through the door and tackled Malfoy right onto the bench next to Crabbe. Draco could feel his backbone jar and grate against the wood.  
  
"Oh, Draco," the flurry of ruffles began. "I've missed you SO MUCH and I wrote you LETTERS but you didn't write BACK and I thought you were sick and most likely IN BED WITH SOME HORRIBLE DISEASE and I've MISSED you SO MUCH and the summer's just been BORING without you."  
  
Pansy Parkinson said this without seeming to take a single breath. Draco winced as he eased his back into a semi-comfortable position.  
  
"Oh, Draco, are you hurt?" Pansy asked as she climbed off of him and began smoothing out the wrinkles in her pink and green shirt. The garment appeared to be made entirely of cotton and lace.  
  
"No, I'm not hurt. Please leave," Draco said.  
  
Pansy looked up from brushing off her shirt. "What?"  
  
"Please go away." Annoyance began to creep its way into Draco's tone.  
  
"Oh, okay, yeah," Pansy said, unfazed to Draco's irritation, and left. Her high-pitched giggles seemed to echo all the way down the corridor of the train.  
  
With a start, the train began to move, but Draco sat as still and as silently as before.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle took no notice. They were too busy making obscene hand gestures at the moving portraits on the Chocolate Frog cards.  
  
Disclaimer: No one belongs to me as of yet.  
  
A/N: I lent my copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix out to one of my friends, so I apologize if I get any details messed up. 


	2. Beyond the Platform

You only see what your eyes want to see  
  
How can life be what you want it to be  
  
You're frozen when your heart's not open  
  
You're so concerned with how much you get  
  
You waste your time with hate and regret  
  
You're broken when your heart's not open  
  
If I could melt your heart  
  
We'd never be apart  
  
Give yourself to me  
  
You hold the key  
  
Now there's no point in placing the blame  
  
And you should know I'd suffer the same  
  
If I loose you, my heart would be broken  
  
Love is a bird, she needs to fly  
  
Let all the hurt inside you die  
  
-Madonna  
Frozen  
  
* * * * *  
  
Born Again  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to find an empty compartment halfway down the carriage. Any hope of being alone, however, was quickly purged from their minds as streams of people stopped by. Ginny Weasley stayed for a good amount of time, but left and did not return when Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan stopped by the carriage. Colin and Dennis Creevey, now sixth and fourth years respectively, were wandering from compartment to compartment, trying to outwit a group of fifth year girls who thought Colin to be 'hot' and Dennis to be 'cute.' They entered Harry's compartment, Dennis leaning against the wall and Colin leaning down, hands on his knees, panting. After he regained his breath, he looked up.  
  
"D'you have any idea of how to get rid of stalkers?" Colin asked.  
  
Harry grinned and shook his head. "Nope."  
  
"Blimey!" Dennis yelled from the door. "They've got a camera!"  
  
Colin muttered an obscenity and ducked under the height of the window in the compartment door. After the gaggle of girls moved pass the compartment, Dennis stuck his head out the door, looked both ways down the corridor and nodded to Colin. The sixth year waved his thanks to Harry as he left.  
  
Ron hadn't even had time to unwrap and eat a Chocolate Frog before Neville stuck his head into the compartment.  
  
"Hullo!" Neville greeted them as he entered, closely followed by Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. The girl greeted Ron and Harry in turn and both embraced Hermione. The trio stayed, catching up on recent news, for only a few minutes. As soon as the door closed behind them, Hannah Abbot and Ernie Macmillan entered.  
  
Both showed signs of crying recently. Hannah's eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. Ernie's nose was a light shade of scarlet, and several used tissues peeked out of his back jeans pocket.  
  
"Potter," Ernie croaked. "Weasley. Granger."  
  
The three rose. Hermione went over to Hannah and patted her on the shoulder. Hanna sniffed and laid her own hand on top of Hermione's, tears once again blinking on her blonde lashes.  
  
Ernie stood in the middle of the compartment, silent and still, for a few moments, before throwing himself onto the nearest shoulder he could find. Ron, bearing nearly two feet taller than Ernie, winced and patted Ernie's back awkwardly as the other boy spilled his sorrows and laments onto Ron's torso.  
  
Harry sighed and cast his eyes down, remembering the attacks on Justin five years before and how Ernie had main it known that Harry was his main suspect.  
  
But Justin wasn't Petrified, he was dead and no wizard or Mandrake or potion could ever bring Ernie's best friend back to him again.  
  
This is Voldemort, Harry thought as he watched Ernie's shoulders rise and fall in a spastic rhythm.  
  
Sirius. The name whispered across Harry's consciousness and brought the now familiar twinge in his gut.  
  
In a way, Sirius and Justin had suffered the same fate. Both had died at the hands of the Death Eaters, and both had died in the presence of those that they had loved most dearly. Harry wondered whether or not Justin had watched his parents die. He banished the thought from his mind as he remembered his own once-recurring dreams of a mysterious flash of green light.  
  
Harry had watched Sirius go beyond the veil. Sirius Black was the only family that Harry had left, and not even a ghost or a shade remained behind now.  
  
He brought himself back to the present. The door to the compartment had opened, and in the middle of the sorrowful reunion Luna Lovegood entered and quietly closed the door.  
  
Luna was four years younger than Harry and had spend most of her time at Hogwarts flipping between her small circle of friends and Harry's group. The girl patted Hannah on the shoulder and sat down in her quiet way, not saying a word.  
  
Soon after Luna entered, Ernie and Hannah left, only to be followed by Padma Patil and Sarah Fawcett. After the two Ravenclaws had reunited with their friends and left, there was a lull in the steady stream of visitors and Ron, Harry, and Hermione were left peacefully and contentedly alone in their compartment.  
  
Hermione grinned shyly at Harry from behind her ever-present textbook. Harry smiled back. Ron groaned.  
  
"If your two are going to be making eyes at each other for the entire trip, I swear I'll spend the feast vomiting in the lavatory," Ron threatened in a sour tone.  
  
"What a dire threat," Hermione said dryly from behind her textbook. A moment later she dropped the volume into her lap.  
  
"Really, Ron. Viktor Krum was your hero before he invited me to the Yule Ball. You were at least civil to Seamus Finnigan before he asked me out last summer. Harry's your best friend, and I can handle it."  
  
Ron blushed all the way to his ears and mumbled something like "Yeah, I know." Then, in a much louder tone, he announced, "I'm starved. Isn't it about time the food cart came around? Mum actually didn't force watercress sandwiches on me this year."  
  
The door to the compartment flew open, and Ron looked up hopefully.  
  
"What do you want?" Harry asked sharply.  
  
Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle stood framed in the doorway to the compartment. Hermione looked up over the edge of her textbook and saw that Ron and Harry had already gotten to their feet, as if anticipating a fight. Harry had his wand out. Ron's right hand was on his wand, fingering it in excitement and anger, and his left hand was twitching slightly, as if preparing to hold Harry back if it came to non-magical blows.  
  
Draco's ice chip eyes surveyed the compartment and its inhabitants. "Potter," he said coolly. "Weasley. Hermione. Back for another year of saving the day, I presume?"  
  
"If it means saving others from asses like you, yeah," Ron shot back.  
  
Draco smiled, the grin not quite reaching his eyes. "Temper, temper, Weasley. Wouldn't want to have to tell your mum and get your dad fired from his mediocre office, would I?"  
  
"At least his dad has a job and a family. Your dad's basically been ruined for life, isn't he, Malfoy?" Harry yelled.  
  
Draco's eyes flashed. "Better keep quiet, Potter. At least I have parents."  
  
Ron's arm shot out and hit Harry right in the torso as his friend started. His own brown eyes were blazing. "Watch it, Malfoy," Ron growled. "Harry's mum and dad wouldn't be dead if it weren't for your father."  
  
Crabbe grunted. Goyle cracked his knuckles. Draco held up a hand to stop the two thuggish brutes from charging.  
  
"Maybe, Potter," said Draco quietly. "But we'll never know, will we?" He turned and pushed his way between Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
Harry's green eyes were still blazing with anger, and he had dealt with idiots like Crabbe and Goyle before. He lithely slipped between them and pointed his wand at Draco's retreating back.  
  
"Come back here, Malfoy!" Harry yelled. Draco turned, his black robes sweeping across his shoulders as he did so.  
  
"Wouldn't want to duel in front of the lady," Draco said icily. He turned on his heel and left.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle pushed past Harry and made their way down the corridor in pursuit of Malfoy. Harry, still emanating anger, made his way back into his compartment and slammed the door.  
  
With the tinkling of glass behind Harry, Hermione raised her wand, pointed it at the door and said "Reparo," without looking up from her textbook. Harry sat down next to Ron, rubbing his wand.  
  
"I'm going to get him this year," Harry mumbled.  
  
If Harry was a little less angry or a little less preoccupied, he would have noticed that Hermione's eyes were not moving back and forth over the page in her textbook. Instead, she was thinking.  
  
Something was bothering her. Something Malfoy said, but she couldn't pinpoint it. Frustrated, she shut her book and grabbed her suitcase as the train jarred to a halt.  
  
They made their way out onto the platform. It was a clear, cool September night, and Hagrid's large form was clear over the hustle and bustle of the platform.  
  
"Firs' years over 'ere! Firs' years over 'ere! 'Lo, Harry, Hermione, Ron! Firs' years over 'ere!"  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione, joined by Ginny Weasley, loaded their luggage into the apparently horseless carriage. Harry grinned at the nearest thestral and restrained the rather stupid urge to pet it.  
  
Hermione feigned tiredness as she climbed up into the carriage.  
  
What had Draco said that was bothering her?  
  
With a start, she realized it. When he had come into the cabin, he hadn't called her Granger. He had called her Hermione.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny piled up their luggage in the Great Hall. Before they could head towards the feast, however, Professor McGonagall raised her hands above the crowd.  
  
"Seventh years, over here, please! Seventh years!"  
  
The students pushed their way through the swells of people and found themselves in the small room in which they had come to before they had been Sorted. The air quickly grew thick and stuffy.  
  
"Seventh years! Quiet, please, quiet!"  
  
After a few murmurs, the small room fell silent. Professor McGonagall nodded.  
  
"Now, as you all know, you are now Seventh years."  
  
"Damn straight," Ron whispered to Harry, who suppressed a chuckle.  
  
"The Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, or N.E.W.T.S., are coming up this year. I expect to find that you have all studied over the summer."  
  
Harry and Ron stole accusing glances at the broadly grinning Hermione.  
  
"The N.E.W.T.S. will test you mentally, physically, and emotionally. You will be very stressed during the period over which you take these tests. Your mentality will be affected by the amount of knowledge you will receive this year, and, of course, you must achieve perfection with your wand motions. All I have to say to you is this: The Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests are not just taken for fun. These will define your future in the wizarding world. Do not joke. Do not tarry. May I have Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy up here, please? Prefects, please wait outside the doorway. The rest of you may leave and go to the feast."  
  
The seventh years made their way noisily out into the hall and to the feast.  
  
Hermione glanced at Draco and saw the shiny golden badge pinned to his robes.  
  
I didn't know he was Head Boy, she thought to herself in anguish. Who in their right state of mind would even make him a prefect?  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted. Professor McGonagall had begun to speak.  
  
"As you both know, you have been made, respectably, Head Boy and Head Girl."  
  
Draco shot her a look of disdain, but a grin crinkled the corners of his eyes.  
  
"It is your job to monitor the school's behavior and well being. You are both role models for the rest of the students. You have been chosen because of your superior intelligence and knowledge of magic." Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly took on a much sterner tone.  
  
"And I expect no problems, whatsoever, from either of you. Now send in the prefects, please."  
  
Draco and Hermione exited the room. Draco walked ahead as Hermione told the prefects that McGonagall was ready for them. When she turned to walk to the Great Hall, she saw that Draco was taking slow, dragging steps. His hands were folded behind his back.  
  
Hermione looked at his back, and then ignored his pace, walking with her usual brisk steps. She reached the doors that led to the Great Hall and paused, noticing the aroma of the food.  
  
Her hands were on the doors, ready to push past them and into the Hall, when Draco spoke.  
  
"Hey, Granger."  
  
Hermione looked behind her, but Draco had seen her back tense in the moment that it took for her to look behind her. He grinned.  
  
"Want to bet that McGonagall's giving the prefects the same speech that she gave us?"  
  
"I don't bet," Hermione said coolly, but she waited for Draco to catch up with her. As he was about to enter, she said, "But if I did, I would."  
  
Both of them entered the Great Hall smiling.  
  
Disclaimer: Same A/N: Sorry if this is a bit shorter than the last chapter. And please, TELL ME IF ANYONE SEEMS OUT OF CHARACTER. Please, do this. I like constructive criticism, I really do. And I hate fanfics where people are OOC. So please, comment on these types of things! 


	3. The Rising of the Hogwarts Students

We're neither clear nor descript  
  
We kept it safe and slow  
  
The quiet things that no one ever knows  
  
Keep the blood in your head and keep your feet on the ground  
  
Today's the day it gets tired  
  
Today's the day we drop down  
  
-Brand New  
The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows  
  
* * * * *  
  
Born Again  
  
Draco Malfoy could have punched himself.  
  
I thought I was going to forget about her, he reminded himself angrily. I thought I was going to treat her like dung. Like normal. Not like. not like I want to treat her.  
  
He took his seat between Crabbe and Goyle, as usual. Pansy Parkinson was seated between Millicent Bulstrode and Adrian Nott. Malfoy stole a glance at the girl, whose pink and green shirt seemed to be glaring at him from across the table.  
  
Why couldn't I be in love with Pansy? Draco asked himself. I wouldn't have to act with her. She's a Slytherin. She's an equal.  
  
Hermione turned towards the Gryffindor table. Harry was sitting next to Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley. Next to him two seats were empty- Ron had not yet come back from the prefect's meeting.  
  
Hermione took the seat nearest Harry and grinned at him. Harry grinned back. "So, what was that all about?"  
  
"I'm Head Girl, so I have to act more like a role model than I already do," Hermione jokingly answered. "Have they Sorted yet?"  
  
Harry nodded and pointed to a bunch of small shivering children seated at one secluded end of the Gryffindor table. The second years seemed to be drifting over to them, trying to comfort them and introduce them to the wonderful world that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
"Darn," Hermione said. She would have liked to have seen the Sorting Hat's last song.  
  
Dumbledore stood up and leaned forwards over the staff table. His long white fingers splayed across the wooden surface, and his eyes had lost the familiar twinkle that they had usually possessed.  
  
"Welcome, new students," he said. Dumbledore's voice was dry and reedy, as if he had not used it in a long time. "Welcome to a new and wonderful year at Hogwarts. But before we begin out feast, I would like to say a few words.  
  
"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to announce that all items featured on the list in his office will be confiscated if seen by either staff, prefects, or himself. The list has well over six hundred items, and Mr. Filch would be happy to give you a viewing of the list.  
  
"Absolutely no one is allowed to enter the Forbidden Forest at any time during the course of this school year. Absolutely no one is to leave the castle grounds without permission. Hogsmeade visits, I regret to inform you, will not take place quite as often this year due to the. recent complications. in the wizarding world."  
  
Dumbledore looked down at his empty golden plate and sighed. A single tear fell down Professor Sprout's face.  
  
"I regret to inform you," Dumbledore croaked, "that over the course of the summer one of our beloved students has been murdered by the Dark Lord."  
  
Murmurs erupted throughout the room. They were quickly silenced as Dumbledore began to speak again.  
  
"I ask you all to rise now, please."  
  
With a single motion the entire school lifted themselves off of the benches and took their goblets in their hands. They raised them over the tables. Dumbledore took his own goblet in his hands. Harry could see the Headmaster's hands shaking ever so slightly.  
  
"Justin Finch-Fletchley was murdered over the summer by Lord Voldemort and his followers. His entire family was killed in the attack. I ask you now to remember Justin as the exemplary student that he was."  
  
"Justin Finch-Fletchley," the school intoned in a deep and somber voice. Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff House, began to sob. Professor McGonagall quickly left her seat and went over to comfort the woman.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down along with the rest of the students and waited somberly for the food to magically appear on the tables. But before the food could even be sent up to the tables, a voice spoke.  
  
"Why aren't we doing something about it?" a voice yelled. Hermione looked up.  
  
Ernie Macmillan was standing in the aisle next to the Hufflepuff table. His face was beet red with exertion, pain and sorrow. The veins in his neck throbbed and stood out clearly.  
  
"Cedric Diggory! Justin Finch-Fletchley! Are we just going to stand here and let our friends die?"  
  
Hannah Abbot buried her head in her hands and wept. Her cries and groans lifted over the tables like a haunting melody, a backdrop to Ernie's words.  
  
"Too long have we been silent! Hufflepuff House has lost more than any other!"  
  
Mutterings began to grow among the students. Ron shook his head.  
  
"They're right mad!" he said. "What do they want to do, go out and fight Voldemort themselves?"  
  
"We have," Harry reminded his friend grimly.  
  
"That's different."  
  
"Is it?" Ron's face turned red, and his ears scarlet. "Well." he stuttered. "You're Harry Potter."  
  
Harry sighed. "Don't you think I know that by now?"  
  
Dumbledore stood and raised both of his hands in silence. The mutterings ceased.  
  
"What, Ernie Macmillan, do you propose that we do? Fighting Lord Voldemort is not a responsibility for your generation."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Harry. It might be, if the Prophecy foreshadows my death, Harry thought.  
  
"All we can do is sit, wait and defend the castle as best we know how."  
  
Harry knew that Dumbledore was lying. The Headmaster would never consent to just sitting down and waiting for Voldemort to attack Hogwarts. But the Headmaster had two responsibilities: One to the Order of the Phoenix, and the other to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
"The time may come," Dumbledore said, "when I may have to leave you for a while."  
  
Voices erupted in anger and confusion all around the Great Hall. Even the teachers were shouting.  
  
Harry noticed two empty spaces at the staff table. One belonged to Hagrid, the other, to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  
  
"All that you can do, and all that you will do," Dumbledore shouted over the tremendous noise, "is learn magic to the best of your abilities and defend yourselves with it!"  
  
The food had long since appeared on the table, but Ernie, for one, would not be deterred by it.  
  
"I will not stand still," he yelled, "while my fellow students are being slaughtered!"  
  
The students began to yell, some furious, some nervous, others just sitting silently, wide-eyed, scared.  
  
Hermione was on her feet, trying to see what was happening. Ron was yelling something about justice. Harry was sitting, wishing that he had someone to look up to- Cho, Fred, George, Angelina, even Oliver Wood would do. But he was a seventh year and he was required to take a stand.  
  
He leaped to his feet and joined Ron's cries in justice.  
  
Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, had no clue what to do. He was on his feet, but his mouth wasn't moving and his ears were throbbing with the noise. He didn't want to hear what his fellow Slytherins were yelling- probably something vile, as always. Without thinking, he leaped over the bench and walked into the center aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables. The golden Head Boy badge glinted on his chest. Hermione saw him and wondered at what he was going to do and hoped that it wasn't something stupid.  
  
What Draco did was even beyond his mind. He took his wand out and whispered a spell.  
  
Red sparks shot over the heads of the Slytherin table, some drifted over to the Hufflepuff table on the far right. Draco turned and sent another jet of sparks over the heads of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors.  
  
Hermione turned into the aisle and went to stand beside Draco, helping him shoot sparks over the heads of the students, catching their attention with their color and abrupt appearance. Gradually the room fell silent.  
  
Draco sighed, ears still ringing with absent noise as the students turned towards their food, some still talking angrily among themselves, and began to eat.  
  
"Our duties," Draco panted to Hermione, exhausted from listening. She nodded and, without a word, headed back to her own table. But it seemed that somewhere between the Hufflepuff table and her own, she lost her appetite.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Later that night, the Slytherin common room was filled with noise. People were jeering at Ernie Macmillan for taking a stand, others were yelling out support for Lord Voldemort, half of the first years were huddled against the wall, staring silently with wide eyes as they wondered why they had been accepted into this house, while the other half was joining in with the numerous discussions. More than one time green sparks shot across the room. One student, a fifth year, even started to burn the Dark Mark into the stone wall.  
  
Draco watched the fifth year with quiet observance. If he was in his own fifth year, there was a good chance that he would be supporting Voldemort himself. But his emotions had become ever the more complicated since then, and Draco Malfoy was confused.  
  
His father was a staunch supporter of the Dark Lord. He had served Voldemort since Lucius had found out that he had ever existed. Lucius was evil, through and through, except for the small piece that still loved his wife and his son.  
  
But, if Voldemort had never existed, Lucius would still be with his family. He wouldn't be rotting in the dark cells of Azkaban, brooding on silent memories as his soul wasted away, awaiting the inevitable trial that always awaited former Death Eaters.  
  
If Voldemort had never existed, there was a chance that Draco would not have been placed in Slytherin. He might have been a Ravenclaw, or a Gryffindor. Lucius had raised his son in the Death Eater fashion.  
  
Draco sat in the armchair, stoic and silent. Who was Draco Malfoy? He had to be more than what Lucius Malfoy had crafted.  
  
Or maybe he was just meant to be a tool in the hands of the Dark Lord.  
  
Meanwhile, the mayhem taking place in the Gryffindor common room was of a different sort. Since everyone agreed on the situation, there was a lesser amount of fighting. Plans were being made, strategies to help the Aurors were being formed, and the Boy Who Lived was in the thick of it.  
  
"You've fought Voldemort before, Harry," a fourth year named Marissa Tuttle said. "You could lead us!"  
  
"Don't be stupid," Dennis Creevey cut in. "Harry's not just going to march off, find Voldemort, and kill him. There's more to it than that!"  
  
"How many times have you fought Voldemort now, Harry?" an excited second year that Harry knew only as Ryan asked excitedly.  
  
"Seven," Harry said in a somewhat dull tone as he recounted each and every time he had faced those red snake eyes. The time when he was only one and when he had received his lightning scar, the time in his first year when Professor Quirrel took off his turban, the second year memory of Tom Riddle, the fourth year duel in the graveyard with Cedric's body watching on, the time in Harry's fifth year when Voldemort had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic, and, of course, in Harry's sixth year. If Ron had not been with him on that one. Ron liked to say that he was the hero of that fight. Harry agreed- his head would have been on a pole by now if Ron hadn't been by his side.  
  
A hand snapped its fingers in front of his eyes. Harry looked up, startled, and saw that it was Ron.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You looked dazed. You okay? Can't have our star seeker and captain blanking out on us."  
  
Harry shook his head. Quidditch practice! The letter he had received over the summer. he was the Quidditch captain. Last year Katie Bell had left, leaving the position open.  
  
As he recalled all of this, he glanced around the room, singling out the Quidditch players with his emerald green eyes. Ron, of course, was still the Keeper of the Gryffindor team. His abilities had greatly improved. The Seeker was, of course, himself, so that left two Beaters and three Chasers.  
  
Colin Creevey was the first Beater. His nose had been broken twice by a stray Bludger and it was now crooked on his face. The second Beater was Christian Atwood, a rugged-looking fifth year who always seemed to be surrounded by girls. The Chasers were Mickey Finnigan, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed third year, Elena Heartwood, a fourth year with black hair and pale skin, and Sheryl McCann, a sixth year with chestnut hair and green eyes.  
  
As Harry pondered the possibilities for Quidditch practice times, the portrait hole opened and Hermione strode in, quickly followed by Parvati Patil. Ron's ears turned red and he mumbled something about a toothbrush as he turned towards the boy's dormitory.  
  
"Ron! Wait!"  
  
Ron kept walking, however, his hands in his pockets. Harry let Ron get inside the seventh year dormitory before confronting him.  
  
"You're sweet on Parvati, aren't you?"  
  
"I need my toothbrush."  
  
"You are! You're ears are turning red again. Ron, why don't you say something to her?"  
  
"You know I'm no good at that crap," Ron retorted. "Remember last year? Lavender? She wouldn't even talk to me."  
  
"Yeah, I remember. But you should try anyway."  
  
"Easy for you to say. You already have a girlfriend."  
  
Harry grinned and, followed by Ron, headed back down to the common room to play a nasty game of wizard chess. 


	4. Friendly Curses

Being grown up  
  
Isn't half as fun as growing up  
  
These are the best days of our lives  
  
The only thing that matters  
  
Is just following your heart  
  
And eventually you'll finally get it right  
  
-The Ataris  
In This Diary  
  
* * * * *  
  
Choices Of Destiny  
  
No sunlight peeked into the room, making it seem dark and gloomy. Draco was glad for the poor lighting, as there was less of a chance that the usual dunderheads would bother him. All of the Slytherin rooms were underground, anyway, making windows impossible.  
  
He stretched, just coming out of his deep slumber. Draco pulled away the thick green curtains surrounding his four-poster bed and shuffled quietly into his clothes, shoes and robes. He pulled a dark, overly large and thick object from his bedside table and slipped it into one of his larger pockets. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring loudly, great boulders under their respective covers. Adrian Nott's rat-like nose peeked out from under his sheets.  
  
Draco left the room and strode down the spiral stone staircase that had been built into the wall and entered the common room. A few sixth years were milling about, still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, but Draco could not join them- he was Head Boy, and on this first full day on his seventh year, he was needed.  
  
The object banged against his leg in rhythm to his stride, and Draco absently fingered it. It was the book that he had taken from his room before he had gone down to breakfast. Great Magicians Through The Centuries. Hermione would love it. That just left the problem of giving it to her.  
  
He headed towards the Great Hall, where Professor Flitwick was heading into breakfast with his short, waddling steps. Draco smiled behind the wizard's back. Flitwick had always amused him, being so abnormally short.  
  
Draco looked up from the teacher's long grey hair and saw that most of the staff was already at the table, drinking tea and waiting for the students to arrive. Hermione was already talking to Dumbledore, her hands gesticulating violently. Dumbledore seemed only slightly fazed by Hermione's fierce hand movements.  
  
"House elves," Draco heard her saying as he drew closer. "The Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare. I know that you offer pay, Professor, but the normal conditions for house elves are simply horrible. Don't you agree?"  
  
Dumbledore opened his mouth in reply to Hermione's comments, but he caught sight of Draco approaching first.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," he said pleasantly. Probably glad I got him out of having to join the Society for Elves or whatever, Draco thought. He grinned as Hermione glared at him for distracting the Headmaster.  
  
"Now, since you are both here, I need help handing out these."  
  
With the last word, Dumbledore magicked a sheaf of parchment over to Hermione and Draco. The pile split itself into two parts and then dropped heavily into their arms.  
  
Draco nearly groaned with the weight. He saw Hermione struggling with it also.  
  
"These," Dumbledore began, seemingly not noticing their discomfort, "are schedules and a little something extra I have added in for the students this year. Mr. Malfoy, you will hand out papers to the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables. Ms. Granger, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, if you please."  
  
Draco grunted his consent, and the two headed off to hand out papers to the students that had already arrived, and on the plates of those who had not yet appeared.  
  
Slowly, number after number of tired students drifted into the Great Hall, until the place was as loud as it usually was. People were milling over their schedules and the "little something extra" that Dumbledore had added.  
  
Draco headed back to his seat, flexing his arms. He glanced over his schedule and saw that he had Potions and Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors, as usual.  
  
When Hermione finished handing out her own pile of papers, she found Neville Longbottom ashen faced next to Ron and Harry. He was clutching one of the packets that Hermione had just helped handing out.  
  
"What's the matter, Neville?" she asked kindly as she took her own seat next to Harry.  
  
Neville pointed a shaking finger at one of the papers in response. Curious, Hermione took the packet from Neville and scanned the page that he had been pointing at.  
  
ATTENTION ALL HOGWARTS STUDENTS  
  
FIRST THROUGH SEVENTH YEAR  
  
Due to the approaching danger of Lord Voldemort, I, Professor Dumbledore,  
have compiled a list of the most useful curses that one can use against attackers if Hogwarts is attacked during this year at Hogwarts. I suggest that you study these spells (though not on friends) and become learned with  
them, so if the need arises, you will be able to defend yourselves.  
  
The list went on and on. Hermione recognized many of them from either reading about them or teaching them to Harry in his fourth year. The list began with the simpler curses, such as the Jelly Legs Jinx, the Full and Partial Body Bind curses, and the Furnunculus curse, and went on to the Reductor, Impediment and Stupefy curses. Pages later, Hermione discovered the Elextra Jinx (in which electric currents are shot from the defending wizard's wand into the body of its attacker) as well as the Liminto Jinx (where the attacker was slowly squeezed to unconsciousness, or even death, depending on the length of the curse) and even the charm to bring the Patronus to defense against a dementor.  
  
At the very bottom, Hermione's eyes fell on the very last curse she had never wanted to witness or see or hear again, and she nearly reeled straight out of her chair in shock at the words that Dumbledore had written on the paper.  
  
Doesn't he know that students can go around using these curses around the school? Hermione thought wildly as her eyes absorbed the two words.  
  
Avada Kedavra.  
  
She was too horrified to even notice the ice blue eyes watching her with carefully hidden concern from across the room.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The book thudded against his leg as Draco went down into the dungeons for his Potions lesson with the Gryffindor students. Pansy was simpering somewhere to his left, Crabbe and Goyle marched on either side of him, and Adrian Nott was skulking somewhere behind. Draco had found, since his very first year at Hogwarts, that Adrian was the only intelligent person that he could carry on a conversation with in the Slytherin common room.  
  
Draco took his seat at one of the tables on the Slytherin side of the room. He set up his cauldron as the Gryffindors straggled in, taking only a pause to see that Hermione still looked shocked, even though she tried to hide it and she hid it well. Harry was laughing and joking with Ron beside her.  
  
"Quiet," said Snape lazily from behind his desk. The man rose and waved his hand at the blackboard as the Gryffindors took their seats.  
  
"Today is the beginning of your true N.E.W.T. training. In the exam, you will be taxed heavily with potions such as the ones I will give you this year. These potions are complex, and the ingredients need to be placed into the brew exactly as the instructions say, or else your potion will turn into utter destruction. Some even take weeks to brew. Longbottom, I have collected several small containers to ship to your grandmother holding your remains, so don't worry about being properly cared for. You may begin."  
  
With another wave of Snape's hand, the instructions for the potion they were to brew appeared on the board. Harry sucked in his breath as he read the name of the potion: Veritaserum. He did not let himself look to see if Snape was watching him.  
  
Next to him, Hermione's brows where drawn together in concentration as she carefully read and reread the instructions and then began to set up her ingredients according to directions.  
  
Across the room, Draco Malfoy was throwing his ingredients onto the table next to him. He knew that whatever he did, he would get top marks. Therefore, there was no need to worry.  
  
Three kelpie hooves later, he was laying face up on the cold floor, looking up at the stone ceiling. Faces hovered around him, and he could hear laughing from the Gryffindor side of the room. Pansy was looking down on him, as well as Crabbe, Goyle, and Professor Snape. At Snape's side was Hermione.  
  
She was bending down over him, asking him repeatedly if he was all right. As he began to regain his senses, she realized that her fingers were on his wrist, checking his pulse. The feeling was electric.  
  
He found that he didn't have the heart to tell her to get off of him or to call her a Mudblood.  
  
"Good job, Malfoy," Snape said, the words slithering off of his tongue. "Five points from Slytherin for your incompetence."  
  
The laughs of the Gryffindors quickly turned into groans. Harry was among those angry. Only five points from Slytherin? If a Gryffindor had nearly exploded the dungeon, it would have been a round, even hundred.  
  
Draco struggled to sit up. The hand that was not being clutched by Hermione involuntarily flew to her arm and gripped it, helping him up. She knelt and placed a hand on his back, steadying him.  
  
Draco looked to her.  
  
So close.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"You didn't wait five minutes between putting in the two kelpie hooves and the last," Hermione explained. "Are you alright?"  
  
He winced, shuffled his shoulders. "Yeah, I think so. What about-!"  
  
He stopped himself short. What had he been about to say?  
  
What about you?  
  
"My cauldron," Draco croaked. "My cauldron. Is it okay?"  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows and rose, letting go of his hands. Draco's arms flopped uselessly to the floor.  
  
"It exploded, Malfoy." Her eyes grew cold. "Haven't you seen Neville screw up more than once? You'll need a new one."  
  
He nodded. 


	5. Quidditch Practice

A/N: I added to Chapter Four, so check that out please. Its just a little longer.  
  
Stranger it feels  
  
Yeah  
  
And now that your rose is in bloom  
  
A light hits the gloom on the grey  
  
There is so much a man can tell you  
  
So much he can say  
  
There's so much inside  
  
-Seal  
Kiss From A Rose  
  
* * * * *  
  
Choices Of Destiny  
  
Draco wiped the last bit of ash from his forehead as he left the dungeon, dragging his books behind him.  
  
Harry, Hermione and Ron left right after him, Ron making faces at Draco's back.  
  
"Serves him right, the git, to almost get blown up," Harry muttered. Hermione shot him a quick glance, partially amused.  
  
"Hullo, Harry."  
  
Harry turned around, his bag almost sending Hermione spread-eagle onto the floor. "Hey- oh, Hermione, sorry - Luna!"  
  
Luna Lovegood smiled wanly. "Are you okay?" she asked Hermione.  
  
"Fine. just fine."  
  
"I see. I've got to get to Potions. see you later, Harry." Luna drifted off down the corridor to Snape's classroom.  
  
"She seemed quite taken with you, old mate," Ron said, slapping Harry on the back.  
  
Harry grunted. "C'mon, Ron. Quidditch practice tonight! Can you wait?"  
  
"Not really," Ron said, his ears tinged with scarlet. He still sometimes got nervous on the field and missed easy goals.  
  
"Will you come, Hermione?" Harry turned to her, eyes glinting hopefully. "Watch the first practice of the year?"  
  
Hermione grinned and looked down at the floor. "Alright," she said. .  
  
* * * * *  
  
The night was clear and cold- perfect conditions for a match. Harry had been made the new team captain. Ron was followed out onto the pitch by Ginny, who had been made a Chaser. Sloper and Kirke, who had replaced the Weasley twins after Umbridge had kicked them off the team, had also returned as Beaters. Anna Malloy and Euan Abercrombie served as Ginny's fellow Chasers.  
  
Hermione let go of Harry's hand and walked up into the bleachers. She could see Harry clearly in the fading light, his black hair and glasses glinting in the last rays of gold.  
  
"Look here! The King has returned for a third try!"  
  
Hermione tensed. She didn't bother to turn her head to see the speaker.  
  
"And look! Potter's been made Captain! Yet another shining accomplishment on his long and tedious list!"  
  
Hermione focused on Harry. She could see how his shoulders tensed, but he kept issuing orders and explaining plays.  
  
"And it's his Mudblood girlfriend as well," Malfoy said, quietly so that only she could hear.  
  
Hermione's hands shook. She dropped the textbook she had been trying to open back into her lap.  
  
"Nervous, Granger? Or just angry?"  
  
Hermione started so badly that she turned around, eyes full of shock. Draco was leaning back against another seat, his legs stretched out in front of him. His head was cocked to one side, looking at her.  
  
"Why, Malfoy, for once you're alone." Her voice shook only a little. "Where are Crabbe and Goyle? Have you given them a day off, perhaps?"  
  
"Only a night." Draco leaned his elbows against the row behind him and tilted his head back, taking in the appearing stars. The tendons in his thin throat strained against his skin.  
  
"Then what about Pansy?"  
  
His nose wrinkled slightly, but enough so that Hermione could see it in the nightlight.  
  
"Or maybe you just don't want to start a whole lot of trouble just now, do you?"  
  
Draco's eyebrows drew together and he lifted his head up to look at her. Her gaze was level, and her hand was on her Head Girl badge.  
  
"You've always loved power, Malfoy, haven't you?" Hermione tilted her head to one side. "You're Head Boy, and you're the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. You don't want to get into trouble because you don't want to lose your position. Or maybe it's because of your father," she said, anger shading her voice for the first time. "You don't want him to worry about you. Or you just don't want yourself to reflect on his already ruined record?"  
  
"Don't talk about my father like that, Granger," Draco said. But the words came out halfheartedly.  
  
She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded and turned back to her textbook, which had fallen open when she had dropped it.  
  
Draco left when Hermione closed her book, shot him an unreadable glance, and headed down to the pitch to see Harry. He left quietly.  
  
The castle was quiet and peaceful. Draco took a breath before shoving his hands into his pants pockets and heading down to the dungeons. He could feel himself involuntarily bracing itself for a Pansy attack.  
  
At the door to the common room, he opened his mouth to utter the password, but before he could say a word the wall opened and something flew out at him.  
  
"Draco! Where've you been?" Pansy sounded flushed.  
  
"Pitch," he said shortly as he walked into the common room.  
  
"Pitch?" she said, confused. "Oh, yes, the Quidditch pitch! Taking care of the Gryffindors, were you?"  
  
"Yes, Pansy." He headed wordlessly to the boys dormitory and slammed the door to his room shut behind him.  
  
No one was in there, so he crossed to his four-poster and sat down on its end, putting his head in his hands and drawing his fingers through the white-blonde strands.  
  
Taking care of the Gryffindors, Pansy had said. Well, he had been watching over one of them. .  
  
* * * * *  
  
"How'd it go?" Hermione asked Harry after tripping lightly down the stairs to the bleachers, book in hand.  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "You weren't watching?" He sounded disappointment. "Well. it's the first practice back."  
  
"Not too well, then."  
  
"What did Draco say to you?"  
  
Hermione turned, eyes surprised, to Harry. His words had been so vehement.  
  
"Nothing, really." He had only called me a Mudblood, she added silently, but didn't want to share this with Harry. "I think he might've changed."  
  
Ron started to laugh as they walked to the changing room. Harry only narrowed his eyes. "He wouldn't."  
  
Hermione sighed, shrugged, and changed the subject. "Have you two started on your Potions essay yet?"  
  
"What Potions essay?" Ron said blankly.  
  
Hermione snorted. "'Name the uses of Veritaserum.'" She waved her textbook at them.  
  
Harry made a noise. "Easy. It can be used to interrogate disobedient students. Or, simply, students that the owner of a vial of Veritaserum doesn't like."  
  
"He wants four feet of parchment, due the day after tomorrow."  
  
Harry and Ron cursed at the same time.  
  
The common room was loud and raucous, perhaps for the first time since Fred and George had left. However, the twins had left their mark in a way only they could. Harry frequently saw the flick of wrists as Hermione approached, hiding Skiving Snackboxes and other various ways to get out of class. There were also the burn marks on the outside of the castle, where fey fireworks had burnt the bricks. And in Professor Flitwick's office, a small jar on his desk contained a bit of mud and sludge, which had once been part of a much larger swamp.  
  
"Well." Harry said outside the steps of the girls' dormitory. "Goodnight, Hermione."  
  
"Goodnight, Harry." She smiled up at him and kissed him on the cheek. Some nearby first year girls hid their laughter behind cupped palms.  
  
That night, she dreamed of ice blue eyes. 


	6. Plans

A/N: This one is pretty short, so I'm sorry.  
  
Lilykins = thanks for your review! Yes, Luna Lovegood is in Ginny's year and is one year younger than Harry.  
  
Jen Drake = thanks! I'm glad you like it.  
  
Mystical*in*Black = thank you so much! I'm glad I don't remind you of some soap opera crap. haha. I suppose Hermione would appeal to Draco because they're both so different. Opposites attract and all that, you know?  
  
Jaina = Malfoy is intriguing whether he is good OR bad, is he not? Haha thanks for your review!  
  
Jewls1 = Thanks! Yes, I agree with you, Draco IS very, very, very hot. lol I've got pictures of him from the movies on my computer. Sick and stalker-ish- hehehe. No, Ginny didn't die. There was no fic before this, either. Sorry if you were confused! I'm also sorry, but more people are going to die. sorry. It will become evident in this chapter where and how students are going to meet their demise.  
  
Daintress = Sure, I'll check out your fics! Thanks for your compliment on keeping people in character- you have no idea how much that means to me!  
  
Elfie = Yeah, its gonna be interesting, all right! Keep reading.  
  
PinkTribeChick = Haha that's okay that you didn't review. Of course I'll write more!  
  
Drei Ellis = lol sorry about your computer. I hate it when that happens right in the middle of something you're doing. Thanks for the great review!  
  
I came here by day  
  
But I left here in darkness  
  
And found you on the way  
  
Now  
  
It is silver and silent  
  
It is silver and cold  
  
You  
  
In somber resplendence  
  
I hold  
  
Your sins into me  
  
Oh  
  
My beautiful one  
  
You sins into me  
  
As a rapturous voice escapes  
  
I will tremble a prayer and I'll beg for forgiveness  
  
Your sins into me  
  
Oh  
  
My beautiful one  
  
Light  
  
Like the flutter of wings  
  
Feel your hollow voice rushing  
  
Into me  
  
As you're longing to sing  
  
So I will paint you in silver  
  
I will wrap you in cold  
  
I will lift up your voice as I sink  
  
Cold in life's throws  
  
I'll fall asleep for you  
  
I only ask you turn away  
  
I only ask you turn away  
  
I only ask you turn away as they seep into me  
  
Oh  
  
My beautiful one  
  
-AFI  
Silver and Cold  
  
* * * * *  
  
Choices Of Destiny  
  
The darkness surrounded him like a cloak, making him all but invisible as he walked down the old corridors of the Riddle House.  
  
The town itself had long been vacated- or slaughtered. He had purged it clean of Muggles two summers ago. He couldn't have any of them interfering with his plans.  
  
He had planted their remains in London, all of them, in the space of the past year. Scotland Yard thought they were dealing with a serial killer. A serial killer who left nary a mark on the bodies of his victims. Except for a strangely empty look in their eyes, which, even though dead, reminded the policemen of a person who had no soul.  
  
It was (almost) laughable.  
  
Voldemort sent a hiss of air through his teeth as his two thin fists gripped the folds of his robe. A liquid pair of red eyes melted out of the darkness and slithered next to him.  
  
He could hear their voices downstairs in the kitchen. Nagini heard them too, for her head reared up in defense of her master, then subsided into a less severe position when she recognized the voices. But recognition does not apply for trust.  
  
The drawing room fell silent as Nagini entered first, tongue tasting the air. Voldemort came after her, gazing about the room with his red eyes with narrowed pupils.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy has been recaptured."  
  
The Death Eaters did not move. The capture of their comrade for the second time was old news.  
  
"Augustus Rookwood is being held in the deepest recesses of Azkaban." Voldemort sat down. Nagini curled up underneath his seat, her eyes peering out from around the legs of the chair.  
  
"These are two of our most valuable operatives. Both used to have connections in the Ministry of Magic, but they have not used their skill to ferret," Voldemort's eyes narrowed, "out information. We need them back. Wormtail."  
  
"Yes, milord?" Voldemort could see Wormtail's hand curling into a fist in his cloak pocket- no doubt around the handle of his wand.  
  
"You will lead the Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, as well as Antonin Dolohov, to Azkaban. They knew well enough the secrets of the dementors, and the guards that Fudge put in their place after we gained control over them is not a threat at all compared to dementors." Voldemort nodded to Rodolphus, Bellatrix and Antonin in turn as he spoke their names.  
  
"You will leave at once."  
  
The four nodded and swept out of the room with the sound of swishing cloaks. Voldemort remained in his chair, his spine rigidly straight. He stroked the top of Nagini's head.  
  
"And now, for the full scale attack on Hogwarts."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The wall was oozing moisture.  
  
He could have sworn that he saw specks of water oozing from between the blocks of stone.  
  
Well, there had to be moisture. The wall was wrist deep in mold, and the air was heavy and damp.  
  
That explained the ocean, Lucius Malfoy thought, on the edge of hysterics. He had been in here for a long time- how long, he did not know. The sun looked as bleak as the moon on the crests of the waves outside his barred window.  
  
Why do they have bars when they have magic?  
  
Panic bubbled inside his throat as he swept his sweaty hair off of his forehead with a single grimy hand.  
  
Is this how Black felt? Lucius wondered, eyes growing round as plates as he grabbed the bars and hoisted himself up to the windowsill to gaze at the ocean. It gleamed gray and gold in the fading dusk.  
  
Disheartened, he lowered himself back onto the grimy floor and spread his legs out in front of him. He laid his hands on his knees.  
  
A glint of gold caught his attention, and he drew his left hand up to his face, so close that he could see the sparse golden hairs on his fingers.  
  
It was a golden band, plain and without a mark on it. Lucius twisted it around his finger, then pried it off.  
  
It was a wedding band, he realized slowly and blatantly. Who did I marry?  
  
Come on, Lucius, a dormant voice awoke in the back of his mind. Musn't let Draco see that you're confused.  
  
Who was Draco? Lucius wondered as he lifted his right hand up in front of his face to see if it bore any strange jewels or markings.  
  
Suddenly his arm seared with pain. Confused, he lifted up his sleeve.  
  
It's a warning.  
  
It was a tattoo, a tattoo of a black skull and a snake. Suddenly Lucius could remember the tattoo glowing different colors in distant memory.  
  
Struggling against the waves of time and weariness, he tried to remember when he got the tattoo. But before he could remember, another question emerged in his mind.  
  
Who did I get it for?  
  
Nonsense, he told himself, leaning his head back against the moldy stone.  
  
Voldemort, the dormant voice spoke once again.  
  
Voldemort. Oh, yes, he recollected as he rolled his sleeve back down again. I'm a Death Eater, aren't I?  
  
Of course you are, the dormant voice spoke.  
  
And for the first time in a long time, how long Lucius couldn't remember, the same malignant smile spread across his face in the dimming light of Azkaban. 


	7. Books

And even though I know  
  
That everything might go  
  
Go downhill from here  
  
I'm not afraid  
  
Way away  
  
Away from here I'll be  
  
Way away  
  
Away so you can see  
  
How it feels to be alone and not believe  
  
How it feels to be alone and not believe  
  
Anything  
  
-Yellowcard  
Way Away  
  
* * * * *  
  
Choices Of Destiny  
  
Harry stared out the window, his quill drawing listless designs on the piece of parchment before him of its own accord. Professor Binns was droning on about the Wizarding Convention of 1194 and how it had affected modern dealings with magical crimes today.  
  
Outside, a bird fluttered its light blue wings as it caught a breeze past the turret. Harry turned from the window, cast a blank stare towards Professor Binns, and then looked around at his classmates. Ron was staring into space next to him. He had not even bothered to take out a piece of parchment for taking notes. Parvati and Lavender were passing notes and giggling in the front of the room. Hermione was avidly scribbling something on the back of her second piece of note-taking parchment. Harry suppressed a grin. How she could concentrate, he didn't know and didn't care to find out.  
  
The bell rang, its peals cutting through the heavy drape of lethargy that had coated the classroom. Alive once again, the students gathered their books into their arms and headed quickly out the door.  
  
Harry caught up to Hermione. She grinned shyly at him. He smiled back.  
  
"Oh, get a room if you're going to snog with your eyes like that," Ron said, disgusted. He had dated Hermione in the sixth year, but the two had bickered so often that they had decided to break it off mutually. The failed romance hadn't left a mark on their friendship- or on their natural ability to pick fights with each other. Indeed, Hermione opened her mouth to reply to his comment, and Ron, not wishing to make a scene outside of the History of Magic classroom, quickly said, "Sorry, sorry, I was being sarcastic, you know. No need to be so uptight."  
  
"Are you calling me uptight?" Hermione said indignantly.  
  
"I believe so," Ron said, raising his eyebrows. Harry slipped an arm around Hermione's waist. She looked down at it, surprised. It felt strange, his arm around her hips like that, but she couldn't place the reason.  
  
They headed up to the dormitories to drop of their books before lunch.  
  
"Hey, Ron," said Harry once they got inside the dormitory. "Will you give me a minute with Hermione? We'll meet you at lunch."  
  
Ron wrinkled his nose and nodded. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, mate," he said sarcastically, and hurried down the stairs as fast as he could.  
  
Harry laughed and went downstairs to the common room. Hermione was already waiting for him, her foot tapping impatiently.  
  
"What's the matter with Ron?" she asked.  
  
"I asked him for a moment," Harry shrugged. Hermione raised her eyebrows and turned towards the portrait hole.  
  
"Hermione . . . wait."  
  
She turned back to him, a confused look in her eyes as he stepped forwards, smiling at her.  
  
"We haven't really gotten a chance to be alone since we got here."  
  
Hermione laughed. "Like we ever got a chance at the Burrow, with Ginny popping in and out all the time?"  
  
Harry grinned and touched her hair. "I don't know. I just . . ."  
  
"You just what?"  
  
"I just want a kiss."  
  
He leaned down towards her, eyes closed. Hermione hesitated. Well, go on, girl, she thought to herself, and closed her eyes and leaned her lips forwards to meet his.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Draco Malfoy hadn't known how to feel when he stepped into the Defense Against the Dark Arts class on Thursday morning and saw a woman with bright pink spiky hair standing behind the desk.  
  
His first reaction was curiosity. He had known that Dumbledore was mad, of course, but a professor with pink hair? Unless he had gone of the deep end once and for all.  
  
Behind him, Pansy shrieked. Adrian Nott gave a soft laugh. The woman with the pink hair smiled and dropped a bottle of blue ink.  
  
"Damn," she said quietly, and with a wave of her wand she cleared up the spilled ink and repaired the bottle.  
  
When the whole class was settled, the woman clapped her hands together and said, "Excellent! I'm Tonks."  
  
"Tonks?" Malfoy snorted out before he could stop himself, let alone think about it.  
  
"Tonks," the woman said brightly. "Though, of course, I guess I'm Professor Tonks to you. well. I'm an Auror."  
  
This pronouncement was greeted with stony silence, as some of the parents of Slytherin students were Death Eaters.  
  
Tonks looked about the room, confused as to their reaction. "I'm also a Metamorphmagus."  
  
Next to Malfoy, Pansy gasped. Draco was surprised himself. A Metamorphmagus? Impressive.  
  
"For one," Tonks continued over the noises of astonishment, "I noticed that Miss. that this young lady over here liked my hair." Tonks winked at Pansy, who sat still, for once in her life. "I've always liked pink." There was a POP! Tonks now stood before them with long blonde hair.  
  
"But I was born a blonde! Explains a lot, doesn't it?" There was another POP and Tonks had pink hair again. "Now, this year you'll be learning the toughest defense spells and theories for your NEWT level. This includes the Patronus Charm, as well as more of the advanced charms and spells used for defending yourselves against attackers. Now, when I say your name, I want you to stand up so I can see you. Nott."  
  
Adrian stood up, lankily, a sneer on his face. Tonks nodded, and Adrian sat down.  
  
"Parkinson."  
  
Pansy lifted herself off of her seat.  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
Draco did not miss the tone that had entered Tonks's voice as she said his name. He stood, muscles tense.  
  
Tonks looked up from her roll at him. "You look just like your father," she said softly. "As do you, Adrian. Crabbe and Goyle, I recognize also. Astounding."  
  
Draco sat down heavily without her usual nod of approval. Tonks eyed him, and then continued down her list.  
  
When class was over, Pansy followed Draco to his dormitory. "The nerve of that woman!" she practically shrieked in his ear. "Pointing out your father like that . . ."  
  
"It's fine, Pansy," Draco said, keeping the weariness out of his voce.  
  
"But-!"  
  
"I'll see you at lunch, Pansy," Draco said sternly. She sputtered a little, then he heard the door close behind him.  
  
He waited until her stomping footsteps faded away, then removed a book from the trunk at the bottom of his bed. Great Magicians Through The Centuries.  
  
It was perfect for her.  
  
Draco sighed, then let his head flop down on top of its heavy cover. He rested there for a long time, and then he left for lunch. 


End file.
